At Least He's Not on Fire

By Chris Philbrook

I'm the author of several series; Adrian's Undead Diary, Elmoryn's The Kinless Trilogy, the Reemergence Books and more.

To help folks get a taste of my writing, I've put At Least He's Not On Fire together. Inside this wonderful electronic tome of my words, you'll find a sampler of some of my major works, as well as short stories that are mixed in for your entertainment. All in, Hell Hole, and The Vampire of Menlo Park are all great fun, and I hope you enjoy them.

Dark Recollections: Book One of Adrian's Undead Diary

Beheading a zombie isn't easy in a world where you're more afraid of the living than the dead.

Adrian Ring's simple life is thrown into chaos when the world is ripped apart by a plague of undead and legions of desperate survivors. Retreating to Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy, Adrian attempts to rescue friends and family on the way while dancing around his impending insanity over who and what he left behind, and evading maniac survivors. He saves his cat Otis, but shoots his mom. Pretty successful, all things considered.

Dark Recollections is the first part of Adrian's own story of how he survived after "That Day." Told through his eyes as he talks to his laptop, affectionately named 'Mr. Journal," and through short stories that entwine with his tales that bring forth dark visions of a world being eaten alive by an unimaginable evil. Adrian's Undead Diary is an eight part epic about a solitary, guilt stricken man that didn't think he deserved to live, but realizes very soon that he survived, and suffered for a reason.

The Wrath of the Orphans: Book One of The Kinless Trilogy
Malwynn and his twin sister Umaryn live in a small town in northern Varrland. In idyllic New Picknell nearly nothing happens, and when their day to day routine is interrupted by a skirmish between an invading patrol of the dead from The Amaranth Empire and a defending force from Varrland, their world begins to come undone.

With international war looming on the horizon New Picknell becomes the center of quite unwanted attention, and the twins have their world shattered. With nothing left to lose, they set out on a mission of vengeance that will take them to places they'd never dreamed of visiting, discovering mystical powers in The Way that will change their lives forever, and revealing dark knowledges best left undiscovered.

Tesser: A Dragon Among Us A Novel of the Reemergence
Imagine for a moment that you are a Dragon. A creature of unimaginable power, unending intelligence and strength, and you've just woken from ten thousand years of slumber. Worse yet, you've awoken underneath a city; Boston, an alien and strange place that defies everything you've ever known.

Your last memories were of primordial forests, erupting volcanoes sculpting a developing world, faeries, witches, vampires, krakens, and monsters that feared where you turned your eyes.

But all that is gone. Humans, only barely coming into their own in the world from your memory, have taken over. They have erected cities made of stone and steel erupting from the earth like stalagmites reaching for the high blue sky, and developed sciences that have overshadowed even the glory of old magic.

This was not the way it was supposed to be.

Meet Tesser, the Dragon. He who walks in any form, and flies the skies free of fear.

A Dragon Among Us is Tesser's story. Walk with him as he learns the human way, and discovers the dark truth about why magic has really faded from the world he calls home.

And just maybe, humanity will remember why dragons were most noble, and most savage creatures again.

Welcome to The Reemergence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Philbrook
• Release date: Apr 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781386608899

Chris Philbrook

Chris Philbrook is the creator and author of Adrian’s Undead Diary, The Reemergence, Colony Lost, The Phone, and the fantasy world of Elmoryn. Chris has several years of experience working in game development and editing as well as writing fiction for several major game design companies. He has a business degree as well as a psychology degree. Chris has authored nine novels in the horror/post-apocalyptic series Adrian’s Undead Diary, as well as four urban fantasy novels in The Reemergence series, and three dark fantasy novels in The Kinless Trilogy. His first science fiction novel; Colony Lost has received stellar reviews.. He has also edited two anthologies, and has had numerous short stories and novellas published in the horror world. Chris calls the wonderful state of New Hampshire his home. He is an avid reader, writer, role player, miniatures game player, video game player, husband, and father to two little girls. To get all the news you can get, subscribe to his email newsletter, or reach out directly to him via the contact system here on the website, or use social media, because that’s what it exists for.

Book preview

At Least He's Not on Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head.

By Chris Philbrook

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Dedication:  This freebie is dedicated to the thousands of people who have parted way with their time and money to get their hands on the words that have slipped free of my imagination, and are now running amok inside yours.

Welcome to At Least He's Not on Fire

Hey folks.  I'm Chris.  Thanks for taking the time to download and then theoretically read this eBook or part thereof.  Frightening isn't it?  Trying to get inside the mind of a stranger. I'm sure by now you're thinking to yourself; do I have enough coffee or beer or tea to make it through a decent reading session?  If you don't go ahead and set this down and take care of yourself.  Go pee too if you have to.

Done?  Excellent. Now the scary part: the stories.

At Least He's Not on Fire serves a big purpose for me.  I write a lot of stuff, and getting that stuff out to as large an audience as possible is tough in this day and age.  The market is saturated with self published authors (some great, some good, and some... who should be working on coloring books) and to stand out in the crowd you need lots of reviews, and lots of opportunities to be discovered.  This book is another way for me to be discovered, and it's FREE!  That's my favorite four letter word beginning with F. I have another four letter word that starts with F I'm a big fan of, but I'm keeping that secret for now.  Maybe one day, I'll share it with you.

This book also serves as a way for me to share some stories I've written that don't have a proper home, and also as a way to thank my existing reader base.  If you're new; welcome to the world of my writing.  If you're already a fan of my writing and you're reading this anyway; you rock.  I mean that.  Every review you write, every person you talk to my books to, and every little message you send my way helps me in some way or another.  You are making my dreams come true, and that is NOT a little thing.

At Least He's Not on Fire has a bunch of stuff in it.  There's a table of contents in a page or so that'll lay it all out for you.  There's enormous variety in my writing.  If you read and dislike one thing, try something else.  There's a really good chance you'll like a different story.  What's weird is if you like one thing, there's a good chance you'll like it all. It's weird like that.

Or you won't like any of it.  If that's the case, no skin off your financial back.  This shit was free.

However... I did steal some of your life, and that's like winning for me.

Enjoy this book.  Writing the contents of it has been a huge pleasure for me, and I'm excited to share all of my work, old and new with friends, old and new. Trying to be a writer is the hardest work I've ever loved.

Also, here's a mad shout out to Ian Llanas, the dude who did the cover for this.  Loved working with him, and I love the final product.  Good on you sir.

Chris Philbrook

Hillsboro NH, April of 2014

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>>Insert table of contents<<

All In

I wrote all in as a submission to an anthology a couple of years ago.  When I submitted it, I was real proud of it, and like every other writer in the world, I KNEW it was going to be picked up.

It wasn't.

I shared it as a premium short story over on adriansundeaddiary.com and the folks there said nice things about it.  I pulled it up for this project and edited the crap out of it.  Added over a thousand words, and fleshed it out to be a little creepier, and a bit funnier.  With all the additional work put into it, it's far better now.

A hand of cards with the Devil?  Might win a pot of things you don't want.

Enjoy.

So have you ever actually been to Georgia?  Wallace asked the Devil. 

Sitting across the card table from Wallace, riffle shuffling the deck between the two of them the Devil cracked a wide, evil grin.  He could appreciate the humor in the joke.  "Oh Wally.  What a charming question that is.  I’ve never heard that one before.  I’ll answer that and the next one, free of charge.  I most certainly have been to Georgia, and I can play mean fiddle to boot." 

Wallace’s blood ran cold.  He suddenly wished he’d never opened his mouth after losing a hand at this very table earlier.  The casino both figures -man and greatest power of evil- sat alone in at the moment, had emptied in the snap of a finger the moment Wallace threw his hands up in the air, and yelled at the top of his lungs, What, do I have to sell my soul for a fucking pair here?! 

It was his worst mistake ever, Wallace had decided, and that was saying something.  A failed marriage, a thirteen year old in rehab, and a car probably being repossessed in the parking lot as he played were just the recent mistakes he’d made.  After his exclamation, blood boiling, Wallace looked back down from the ornate pressed-tin ceiling of the gambling house.  Everyone had disappeared into thin air, and the dark lord of night himself had appeared across the green felt card table.  Wallace didn’t need to ask him who he was, or what he was there for.  A thousand people don’t just disappear in Vegas, leaving their drinks and their chips behind unless the one dollar buffet had just opened. 

Wallace was sure the buffet was closed.

The Devil looked clean, smooth, and handsome.  In a different light, on a different day, he could’ve easily been on the cover of a fashion magazine instead of being the leader of the legions of Hell.  He had dark, smooth skin the color of pressed and refined olive oil.  His hair was short, cut in the style of 50’s,swept back, and glistened like it was made from strands of obsidian.  The subtle red pinstripes on his black suit played with Wallace's eyes.  The thin crimson stripes shifted and ebbed as if he had lava just below the surface of the fabric.  Heat waves emanated from his shoulders and shimmered into nothing as they rose toward the lights and cameras above.  His eyes matched his tie, both scarlet red like the blood presently running cold in Wallace’s veins.

Wally please.  Don’t stare.  It’s very rude of you.  You act like you’ve never seen evil before.  The Devil’s voice was sultry, and had an accent that he couldn’t place. 

Maybe that's a total lack of an accent, Wally thought suddenly.  Evil doesn’t have a nationality.

What’s the game going to be Wally?  Blackjack?  Five card stud?  Goldfish?  I’ve always been partial to Omaha, despite what you might’ve heard elsewhere.  The Devil’s fingers danced over the deck of cards, splitting, shuffling and doing it again like a machine powered by centuries of honed evil grace.  Every card moved to his finger’s will without hesitation.  Wally’s eyes were fixated as the red backed cards moved in the Devil’s long, sinister digits.

Well, I uh, I was thinking maybe I’d just, you know, maybe cut my losses and call it a night.  I’m out of chips anyway so maybe I’ll just be going, if you don’t mind.  Wally pushed the plush leather chair back from the poker table and started to stand.  He thought of his son in Malibu, trying to flush the heroin out of his body.  Wally had to get back.  To see him.  Squeeze him, and tell him his father loved him very much, and maybe, to apologize for being such a shitty father for so long.  Wally just needed to get out of the casino...

The Devil’s words stopped him like a statue, "I do mind Wallace.  I mind very much.  I’ve come all this way, and taken the time out of my very busy schedule to offer you a fair game of chance for what you’ve asked for, and I won’t leave without at least one hand.  Sit.  Play.  After all I've done for you it's the least you can do for me."  The Devil never stopped shuffling.  His eyes pointed at the seat Wally had just vacated.

Wallace swallowed hard and slid back down into the chair.  The worn leather creaked against his weight as he pulled himself back up to the table’s edge.  The Devil presented the deck in the middle of the table like a sacrificial dagger on an altar.  He sat up straight and interlaced his long fingers.  Wally was reminded of a bat folding itself up in leathery black wings.

I could maybe play a hand of hold ‘em, Wally offered meekly.

The Devil’s eyed flared like coals hit with a gust from the bellows.  "Oh could you Wally?  Just one hand for little old me?  That would just make my day.  Cut the deck."  The Devil lowered his eyes and stared intently at the cards.  Wally’s trembling hand brushed across the soft green felt and cut the deck in half.  He sat the top of the deck beside the bottom, and took his hand away quickly.  The cards were warm to the touch.

Of their own accord the thin cards reassembled into a single cohesive pile and began to fly across the table, dispensing hands.  One went to Wally, then the Devil, and then again until two cards sat in front of both players.  Wally stared down at the two cards as if they were poisonous to the touch.  The Devil reached down and scooped his two cards up eagerly, holding them up close to his face so that only his red eyes peered out above them.  The Devil looked at his cards, and lowered them to the table face down, revealing a smile filled with pearly white teeth.  For a moment, Wally thought he saw a speck of flesh stuck between two of the incisors.

Well, aren’t you going to look?  The Devil wagged a finger at the cards sitting in front of Wally.  Wally licked his lips nervously and lowered one sweaty hand to them, eventually lifting one card by its edge, like a child peering under an old board in the woods that a spider might be underneath.  Wally glanced down and saw it was the ace of hearts. 

Wait, we totally forgot the wager!  The Devil leaned forward in his chair across the table until he seemed to be right in Wally’s face.  Wally’s nose caught the foul odor of brimstone.  It seems as if though we’ve already looked at our cards, which is very much not normal.  However, perhaps we can make a game within a game out of it?  What do you say Wally?

The image of the ace of hearts sat in the back of Wally’s mind like a brick of solid gold.  The power of the ace in poker was nearly unmatched, and knowing he had one gave him a thrill.  He tried to hide his situation by reminding himself he was playing the Devil.  I’m listening.

Excellent, I knew you were a good sport!  The Devil sat back and tapped his chin with a slender finger, thinking.  After a moment, his eyes flared mischievously, and he smiled once more.  I’ll let you choose your fate Wally.  How’s that?

I’m still listening.  Wally’s confidence was growing every second.  HIs ace felt like, well, an ace in the hole for him.

If you place your bet before you look at that other card, I’ll agree that if you win, you get to keep your soul, and I’ll see to it that you win every pot for the rest your life.  If you look at that second card before you bet, then your soul is still on the line, and if you win, you just get to keep your soul.  No cash prizes as well.  Sound fair?

Wally ran the numbers.  He calculated all the odds of what hands could beat him, and decided that if he was going to put his soul on the line, he might as well get something for it if he won.  He could pay for his son's rehab, and bank a few year's worth of child support payments all at once.

One card it is, I’m all in.  Wally reached down and flipped his two cards over.  The ace of hearts came to a rest with the six of diamonds on top of it.  Wally’s heart sank like a stone in quicksand.  Starting with an ace there was little he would want less than a six that was off suited.  It wasn’t a heart like his ace, nor was it low enough to help make a straight using that ace.  He was reduced to riding the power of the ace alone, hoping another six came down to pair with his six, or pray that enough cards to make a straight somehow appeared. 

Once again it seemed like Wally needed a pair.  He knew for certain he could get a pair for his soul now, but that seemed very insufficient at the moment.

Mmmmmm... the Devil looked as satisfied like a cat with a feather poking out of its mouth.  Oh that ace lured you in, didn’t it?  What a shame.  All the glitz and glamour of that single, solitary red heart Wally.  Gets ‘em every time, the Devil said with a curling smile, and Wally knew his time was short unless he got very lucky.

The Devil leaned back in the leather casino chair and with a flourish flipped and placed his two cards on the Kelly green felt.  The six of clubs and the six of spades sat there on the table, practically mocking poor Wally. 

I should’ve known three sixes would come down.  I mean, it’s you, right?  Fitting.  Wally smirked at the Devil.  He was fucked and he knew it.  For once, he didn't think of his own fate.  He thought of his boy growing up without a father.  Well, his boy finishing growing up without a father.

The Devil nodded knowingly as if any other possibility was impossible.  If I’m going to do it, might as well be thematic about it.  I’m a sucker for good drama Wally.

Well, let’s see the flop, get this over with, Wally said with a dejected sigh.  He had resigned to his fate.

As you wish Wally.  The Devil wiggled his fingers casually in the air as if he were manipulating a marionette.  In response, the top card of the deck lifted itself into the air and burst into flames, incinerating with a puff of black smoke.  In slow motion the top three cards peeled off the top of the deck, rotated face up, and came to a rest three abreast.  They could've been dealt by a ghost.

The king of spades, jack of clubs, and ten of hearts.

Wally’s heart raced as his mind assembled the puzzle.  With his ace he could make a straight if a queen came down on either of the next two cards.  If another ace came out his pair would beat the Devil’s pair of sixes.  The Devil’s hand was still winning, but Wally had several outs, and his soul was not lost yet.  A tiny bit of hope crept into him again.  It felt like finding a twenty in a jacket you hadn't worn since the last winter.

"Wally.  Look at you, playing Yahtzee during a poker game.  How lucky can a man be?  You think that magical ace or queen is going